


MARRIED FOR A WEEK?!

by gravitycentered



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fake Marriage, M/M, YouTuber Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 15:52:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7393750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravitycentered/pseuds/gravitycentered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Hi guys :) You might recognize Harry from one or two of my old videos .. I was tagged in the Married for a week challenge so I asked him to be my husband ! We had to live together for a week and take each other out on a couple romantic dates and that, check out the video to see how it went :) Give it a like if you enjoyed and maybe subscribe if you haven't already. Love you all</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>- Louis x</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	MARRIED FOR A WEEK?!

**Author's Note:**

> so. this fic snuck up on me and i love it way more than i ever expected i would. shout out to buzzfeed's married for a week videos for inspiring this and ana for indulging me in an even more inspiring twitter thread that brought the whole idea to life. DOUBLE shout out to ana for beta-reading and also jasmine for indulging me when i whined about whether it was boring or not. 
> 
> the header i made for [the tumblr post](http://zaptains.tumblr.com/post/146934058496/married-for-a-week-hi-guys-you-might) was super fun, i tried to go with a quintessentially cheesy youtube thumbnail and i hope i did it justice!!! i chose that photo of harry because that's the outfit i had in mind for the first scene in the cafe. and the little lt91 icon in the corner for louis' channel is my own handwriting, so it's an #ORIGINAL. 
> 
> anyway. i hope you all enjoy this as much as i did, it was such a fun project to write :) [come say hi on tumblr](http://zaptains.tumblr.com/), too!!

_**Day 1** _

Louis asks him over lunch at Harry’s favorite cafe, already going out of his way to make the offer seem attractive. 

“Why didn’t you ask Zayn?” 

“I did. He won’t let me record him for a week. He’d kill me,” Louis says, leaving the _you know that_ unspoken. 

“Perrie?” 

“She’s already got one in the works with Leigh Anne. She was my first choice. Well—second.” 

“Hm.” Harry sips his iced coffee, lips pursed around the straw. He may be putting on a pensive face, but Louis can’t be sure thanks to the opacity of his sunshades. 

Before he offers up any more suggestions, Louis adds, “And I can’t do it with Liam, it has to be with someone single. That’s the whole point. And Niall’s already done it with Bressie.” 

“Hm,” Harry says again. He leans forward with a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips, elbows on the table, so Louis quickly pulls out his iPhone to catch a video since his good camera’s stashed in the boot of his car. 

Once he’s got Harry in the frame, he asks, “Well? Will you marry me for a week?” 

Instead of the ‘yes’ Louis was hoping for, Harry asks, “What does marrying you for a week actually entail?” 

“Well,” Louis hedges. He says, “Living with me—sleeping in my bed,” first, since that’s the only real condition he thinks Harry might complain about. 

“Right,” Harry says, voice encouraging, obviously waiting for the rest of the list. 

“Being nice to me. And I’ll be nice back, obviously. We’re meant to, like—see if we can put someone else’s wishes above our own. Or, like, co-habitate successfully at least.” 

“Right,” Harry says again, bobbing his head once in a little nod. 

“And one date night each. Those are the main rules,” Louis finishes, watching Harry’s reaction through his phone’s screen. He doesn’t seem uninterested. 

Once more, Harry says, “Hm.” 

Louis is beginning to feel mildly annoyed. He pushes it aside and strives to think of Harry as his future husband, instead injecting very kind thoughts into his mind about bringing him breakfast in bed and buying him flowers. “So? Will you marry me, then?” 

This time, Harry leans in even closer and grins, “Of course. C’mere and gimme a kiss,” reaching a hand out toward Louis. 

“Stop it,” Louis laughs, shoving his hand away. The video goes shaky, so he stops it there, smiling at Harry. “Thanks, mate, seriously. Loads of people are wanting me to do this fuckin’ video.” 

“I hope I don’t disappoint,” Harry says. “I’ll try to be a good husband.” 

“You’ll be fine. Plus all my subscribers think you’re fit,” he says honestly. Harry hasn’t done a video with him in ages—Louis’ gotten at least 200k new subscribers since then, but he’s relatively certain Harry’ll still be a hit. “Gonna get me loads of views, you are. Those dimples, I reckon.” 

“Oh, stop it. You’ll make me blush,” Harry insists, leaning back in his seat with a smirk. “Are we starting right now?” 

“You’ll probably wanna make yourself a bag up first,” Louis says. “Doubt you’ll fit in my clothes.” He snaps a photo of Harry lounging in his chair and attaches it to Twitter, captioning, _Might’ve found myself a husband …_

Harry says, “I think we should start on a Sunday. Sunday to Sunday, it’ll be a good even week.” 

“Today’s Sunday,” Louis reminds him. 

“Is it? Shit,” he sighs. “Know how much of my coursework I’ve done this weekend?” 

“None?” Louis guesses. 

“Correct.” 

“It’s only noon,” Louis says, shrugging. He sets his phone on the table and looks Harry over, considering it. “We could still start today. Just get home, make up an overnight bag and come round to mine. Bring your camera or whatever. I’ll be a model f’you need one.” 

“Would you _really_ , though?” Harry asks. “You always get weird about it.” 

“Just ‘cos you don’t know my angles,” Louis lies. “But yeah, sure. You’re marrying me, suppose you’re allowed to take photos of me.” 

“I won’t forget this,” Harry says, pointing at Louis in what might be a threatening way. 

Louis promises, “I’ll write it in our vows.” 

-

Within the hour, they’re on their way to a pawn shop, Louis’ proper camera recording the journey. 

“So I’m with my _fiancé_ , Harold—” 

“Hello,” Harry says brightly, so Louis quickly turns the camera toward him before bringing it back to himself. 

“Harry refuses to marry me until we’ve gotten rings, so we’re only engaged at the minute. Gonna pop down to the secondhand shop and see what we can find.” 

“Rings are a necessity,” Harry says, repeating what he’d told Louis earlier as they were paying at the cafe. “If we go out to a club, I’m not gonna want to see someone trying to pull my husband, am I? We’ve got to make it official.” 

The idea is just silly enough to be perfect for this video. “And official it shall be,” Louis says, holding the camera away to get them both in the shot. He looks like a knob, walking down the street holding his camera on a selfie stick so far in front of them, but he’s learned to ignore the stares by now. “I might invite Niall over tonight to offic—what’s the word?” 

“Officiate?” Harry offers. 

“To officiate.” 

“We do need a witness,” Harry agrees. After a few paces of silence, he admits, “I’m kind of excited, actually.” 

“Course you are,” Louis says. Fully planning to edit this bit out, he goes on, “See, guys, Harry is incredibly keen to be a housewife but doesn’t like to date long enough to let a relationship reach that level, so…” 

As expected, Harry frowns, a few unhappy lines appearing on his forehead over the top of his sunshades. “Hey,” he says. 

“It’s alright,” Louis grins, clapping him on the back. He lowers the camera and ends the clip, focusing on walking again for now. “I’m only joking, anyway, I won’t put that in. I do feel like you’re gonna have fun, though.” 

“I am,” Harry says, still mildly stroppy. “Know some sick stain-removing secrets, now.” 

Louis laughs at that. “Oh yeah? Gonna redo my upholstery?” 

“If it needs it! If I have to live there for a week…” 

“You’ll manage. You can handle a couple stains. Your shirt’s got, like, 18 holes in it.” 

“That’s different,” Harry says. “Bit of fashion, that. Your spagbol stain on the living room carpet is pretty rank.” 

“That wasn’t me,” Louis says, though they’ve had this conversation at least three times in the past. Somehow it’s always a bit funny. 

“Right,” Harry laughs, incredulous. Louis isn’t sure if he actually believes it or just plays along for the banter, at this point. 

As he nudges open the door of the shop, Louis says, “If you can’t trust your own fiancé…” 

“I didn’t say anything!” Harry insists, holding up a hand in innocence. He quickly drops it when the shop owner greets them, sending her a beaming smile. “Hello.” 

Louis echoes his greeting and pops his camera off of the selfie stick, holding it in one hand instead. He keeps the owner out of the frame but starts a new clip, recording their feet as they walk up to the front counter and Harry asks, “Do you have any wedding rings? Preferably, like, inexpensive ones?” 

-

The next time Louis records after leaving the shop is several hours later, lounging on his couch with the camera aimed at the front door. Harry opens it with a bang, arms spread wide with a heavy-looking bag slung over his shoulder, “Honey, I’m home!” 

“My darling,” Louis says indulgently, zooming in on Harry’s upper half. “Show me your ring.” 

Obediently, Harry lifts his hand and flashes his ring, twisting his fingers about to let it glimmer. “This only cost Louis a tenner. I’d be upset if it weren’t so beautiful.” 

“The one you got me was even cheaper, so I don’t want to hear it,” Louis says, zooming back out before raising his hand to show his own ring. It feels strange to wear something so heavy on his finger. “It’s pretty ugly, as well.” 

“It’s not! It has character,” Harry insists. 

“Only reason he didn’t take this one is ‘cos it wouldn’t fit on his finger,” Louis tells the camera, flipping it around to get his face in the frame. 

“I like it,” Harry says. Louis turns the camera off again and smiles up at him in greeting when he drops his bag to the floor. Harry tells him, “Hey.” 

“Hi.” 

“You should set the camera up, like, on a shelf or summat. I wanna carry you over the threshold,” Harry grins. 

“I have a tripod. And that’s a terrible idea. I don’t want you to drop me.” 

“I won’t drop you. I know you’d drop _me_ or else I’d ask for it that way, but,” Harry shrugs. He looks very amused. “C’mon. It’ll be cute.” 

Louis has to admit, “That does sound sort of cute.” 

He gives in with little fuss, hurrying to his bedroom to grab the tripod to set it up in front of the door. While he directs Harry where to stand to make sure they get a good shot, he’s already imagining a quick supercut of bloopers that will almost certainly come from him trying to jump into Harry’s arms. 

“How should we do this?” he asks once the video’s started, standing in front of Harry outside his front door, a bit lost. 

“Just put your arms around my neck,” Harry instructs, coaxing him closer with a broad hand on his back. Once Louis listens, hooking one arm around his neck and grasping that wrist with his free hand, Harry holds him tight around the waist and bends to place his other arm behind Louis’ knees, swinging him up into his arms with an unexpected ease. 

So much for Louis’ blooper reel idea. 

“That’s actually kind of impressive,” Louis says, feeling pleasantly light. 

“Been training,” Harry replies, exaggeratedly, letting go of Louis’ waist for a brief second to give his biceps a little flex. 

“Alright, don’t go on about it. You’ve a job to do. Traditions to maintain,” Louis says, nodding in the direction of the camera. “Get in there.” 

“Yes, sweetums.” Harry hitches Louis’ body up a bit higher, which—embarrassingly—makes him gasp, not prepared for it. 

The trip inside is a smooth one, just a couple steps over the threshold. Harry is surprisingly adept at bearing his weight with grace, not stumbling even once. After they make it inside and Harry shoots him a proud grin, Louis dramatically swoons in his arms, holding back a laugh when he feels Harry grunt under the sudden dead weight. 

-

That evening while Harry’s in the shower, Louis tucks himself into bed and turns the camera on, face close in the frame. “So, guys, I don’t know if any of you know, but Harry and I used to live together. He’s having a shower right now and honestly… I’m just curious for him to come to bed because he used to have a terrible habit of getting naked with, like, _no_ warning in our old flat. Like, all the time. That was forever ago, though, so I wanna see if he’s still prone to whipping his kit off at a moment’s notice.” 

Louis spends several minutes editing the footage for a video he recorded a few days earlier until he hears Harry coming down the hallway. He turns the camera back on then and trains it on his bedroom door, recording Harry as he comes in with one towel around his waist and one piled on top of his head. Unable to help himself, Louis wolf whistles in his direction. 

Harry rolls his eyes, but he still turns and smirks, slowly untying the knot on his towel to let it drop at his feet. He’s probably trying to be sexy, playing up the honeymoon night scenario they’ve teased each other about throughout the day. It’s relatively successful. 

“And I was right,” Louis says to the camera, though he continues recording Harry’s nude body as he crouches down to pick out clothes from his overnight bag, letting the second towel fall away from his hair to join the first. He’s considering whether to blur out his cock and the flash of bum he showed, or to cover it all with some enlarged, silly emojis in the final video. 

“About what?” 

“Was telling everyone how you used to prance around naked in our old flat. We were all very curious to see if you’re still in the habit,” Louis says. 

“Gotta air it out down there sometimes,” Harry says, knowledgeably. He pulls a pair of tight pants on and slips his hand inside to adjust his cock, apparently undisturbed by the camera Louis’ still got focused on him. 

“Is that all you’re wearing to bed?” 

“I can take them off again instead?” Harry offers, sending the lens and Louis a faux innocent look, one thumb tucked in the band of his pants. Louis’ viewers are going to love him. 

“You’re too much,” Louis tells him, turning the camera off with a laugh. 

Harry grins and settles in bed next to him, his damp hair immediately leaving wet spots on one of Louis’ pillows. “Are you gonna edit in here?” 

“If that’s alright,” Louis says. He knows Harry has a lecture relatively early in the morning, but ending his day with a little editing in bed is a routine by now. “Can you sleep with the glare?” 

“Oh yeah, it’s fine,” Harry says dismissively, curling onto his side. His knees press up tight against Louis’ thigh. “Can sleep with the light on if you need it, as well.” 

“Nah, I don’t,” Louis assures him. He reaches over to turn off his bedside lamp to demonstrate this, letting just the light from his laptop illuminate the room. “You good?” 

“I’m excellent,” Harry says, eyes already closed when Louis looks at him again. “Night, Lou.” 

“Night, sugarpuff,” Louis says, grinning to himself when Harry smiles. 

 

_**Day 2** _

At half past five in the morning, Louis blearily takes a video using the front facing camera on his iPhone, incredibly fuzzy and dark, of himself glaring into the lens while Harry snores loudly behind him. 

-

It’s hard to go back to sleep after that. Louis’ lucky that YouTube is his job—he doesn’t have to work a 9-5 or go to a day’s worth of lectures. He can sleep all day after Harry leaves if he wants, but regardless, he’s a bit cranky and tired when 7am rolls around and Harry is still sleeping soundly next to him. 

Harry has just under two hours before he’ll need to be leaving, and Louis’ belly is starting to growl; after realizing that sacrifice is the entire point of the married-for-a-week challenge, Louis decides to force himself out of bed and make his new husband breakfast. There’s pancake mix in his cupboards, he’s sure, plus a bag of frozen fruits to fill them with. It won’t be the most glamorous breakfast, but—richer or poorer, et cetera. 

He grabs the camera from his bedside table and turns it on as he walks to the loo, blinking forcefully and addressing his subscribers with a, “Morning, everyone,” as usual. On his way down the hall, he tells the camera, “So, I’ve learned Harry is a bloody snorer. Like, proper bad. I already knew that but I haven’t slept in the same bed as him in ages, and now I know _why_.” 

He ends the clip to have a wee and starts another after he’s washed his hands, “Anyway, I’m about to make us some breakfast since Harry’s got uni in a couple hours. Thinking about doing up some pancakes or summat, maybe a bit of bacon if I’ve got enough for us both. I know I haven’t got much in the kitchen, to be honest. Harry and I might have to do a shop after he’s done for the day.” 

While Louis prepares their breakfast, he secures the camera in the cupboard above his stove to get a good shot from above while he cooks. It turns out he has several sausage links that haven’t gone off yet, but no bacon, so he cooks them up in one skillet while flipping berry-filled pancakes in another, setting the camera in a better position to get a shot of himself plating everything up nicely. 

Just as Louis is wondering whether he should go wake Harry and tell him to come eat or bring the food to him, Harry stumbles into the kitchen. He’s still wearing his pants and nothing else, sleepily rubbing his eyes. 

Louis quickly grabs the camera and aims it at him, “Morning, my darling.” 

“Hi,” Harry laughs, his voice almost shockingly deep, relaxed from his rest. He notices the food then, smiling at the plates on the counter and then at Louis. “You made breakfast?” 

“Anything for my husband. Need your energy to sit in a lecture for hours on end, don’t you?” Louis teases, grabbing the plate of pancakes with one hand, holding the camera steady with the other. “You gonna go get dressed or eat in your pants?” 

“I’m gonna eat in my pants,” Harry says in a cheery voice, helpfully picking up the plate of sausages. 

“Course you are,” Louis says, indulgent. 

-

Several hours later, Louis sets the camera up on the dash of his car before even getting the keys in the ignition. He lets the video run while he gets himself situated, buckling in and checking his mirrors, and says, “So, yesterday Harry and I were so thrilled about our first day of marriage that we forgot to actually even _get_ married.” 

He pauses briefly to check behind himself as he backs out onto the street, continuing, “I had plans! Solid plans, we were gonna have a proper ceremony and make Niall come be our priest or whatever. Might’ve gotten Harry a veil or summat, even. So instead I’ve already called Niall up and he’s ready to meet us at the park and we’ll have ourselves a little wedding! I’m headed to Harry’s uni right now to surprise him, which I know doesn’t count as like, a _date_ , but I thought it’d be nice. I’m trying to be a thoughtful spouse,” he says with a grin. 

Louis knows his way around the uni campus, having gotten his degree nearly a year ago now. He parks in the lot closest to the building he assumes Harry is in and brings the camera with him, asking amused students where he might find a particular lecture hall. 

After a solid ten minutes with no luck, Louis turns the camera on himself again and says, “Alright, I can admit when I’ve done something stupid. This was a bit stupid. I’ve got _no_ idea where he is, and there’s a good chance he’ll have left the building by the time I figure it out.” 

All Louis knows for certain is that Harry’s day is finished at 4:15pm—he gleaned that much from some casual conversation over breakfast, as well as the fact that all his activities for the day were in the same building. A logical guess is that it’s the huge Fine Arts building, which Louis has only briefly stepped foot in. 

At 4:20, Louis is losing hope. “Nooo clue where he is,” he repeats, facing the camera out toward the stream of people walking past him in the halls. “I should probably just text him, but then it’s not much of a surprise.” 

Louis spots the back of Zayn’s head mere seconds later, this week’s hair a soft pink. Harry’s beside him, half his hair pulled up into a bun, and they’re walking quickly in the opposite direction of Louis, who starts hurrying towards them. 

“Found him,” he says, more like a whisper to his camera despite all the noise. He catches them just before the reach a set of side doors, sliding one arm around Harry’s waist and the one holding the camera around his shoulders to get them both in the frame and capture his confusion. 

“Fuck, you scared me,” Harry says, pressing his left hand to his chest. The ring on his finger looks very nice through the camera screen, glinting in the fluorescent hallway lights. More happily, he asks, “What’re you doing here?” 

“Came to surprise you,” Louis tells him, squeezing his torso in a brief, tight hug. They both turn to face him, so he steps back against the wall to let everyone walking go by them. “We’re getting married today! For real. Hi, Zayn,” he adds, quickly panning to Zayn who first gives a cheesy grin and waves, then quickly flips him off when Louis films him for too long. 

“We’re already married. I was going to do something nice for you since you made me breakfast,” Harry says. There’s a touch of petulance in his voice, but Louis can tell he’s pleased. 

“We’re not. No one witnessed our vows,” Louis insists. “I’ve got it all planned out, got a venue set, even. You wanna come, Zayn?” 

“Nope,” Zayn says succinctly. 

“Glad I’m marrying Harold and not you,” Louis tells him, reaching out to clap Zayn on the shoulder. He ends the video and tucks his camera into his pocket, pulling Zayn into a hug in greeting, “You really can come hang out, though, yeah?” 

“No, I know,” Zayn laughs, “I’ve got shit to do today.” 

“He’s gotta practice,” Harry says. “He’s got a _solo_ coming up soon.” 

“Oh, a _solo_ ,” Louis repeats, just as emphatic. “Suppose that’s a good enough excuse to miss our wedding.” 

Harry slings a heavy arm around Louis’ shoulders and tucks him in close, “Imagine how he would’ve been as a husband, as well. Terribly neglectful.” 

“Steady,” Zayn says with a frown, kicking the toe of Harry’s boot in protest. “I’d make time. Where’re you going to get _married_ , anyway?” 

“Can’t say. Surprise,” Louis says. It’s not a very exciting surprise, but still. 

Zayn asks, “I don’t have to get you a wedding gift, do I?” 

“Mm… Condoms might be nice,” Harry says, casual as ever. 

“Jesus,” Louis laughs, cheeks a bit warm. 

-

Harry seems happy enough as they walk through the park, but he lets out a boisterous laugh when they finally spot Niall. 

He’s wearing a tacky priest get-up, something that could be out of a pre-packaged Halloween costume. Louis films Harry greeting him, “Father.” 

“My children,” Niall says in a deep, paternal voice. “Are you ready to make this commitment?” 

“Absolutely,” Louis says, while Harry nods very seriously. “Though I’d love to make this commitment by a tree. More romantic, innit?” Really, Louis is hoping to find a good branch to secure the camera on, so they can film their ‘ceremony’ hands-free. 

“Really romantic,” Harry agrees, shooting him a grin. 

Niall leads them to several trees until Louis finds one that’s suitable. He looks up something on his phone while Louis fusses with the camera angles, making sure they’ll all be able to fit in the frame. As soon as he’s stood them in the right spots, Louis and Harry facing each other while Niall is perpendicular to them in the traditional wedding ceremony formation, Niall says, “Alright, gimme your rings. No—give ‘em to each other. You’ll put ‘em back on at the end.” 

“Yes, Father,” Louis says, working the ring off of his finger. He and Harry exchange them with matching amused smiles, slipping them into their pockets. 

“Now hold each other’s hands,” Niall instructs. He holds his phone in one hand very stoically, as though he’s holding a bible. 

Louis gives Harry a playfully exasperated look, but he only gets a wink in response. They reach out with both hands and link all of their fingers together, shuffling a step or two forward so their arms won’t ache. 

“So,” Niall starts, clearing his throat. He begins reading off his phone with a flourish, loud enough that Louis actually feels himself go a bit red. Right away, he spots couple walking close by turning their heads. “We are gathered here on this _beautiful_ afternoon to witness Harry and Louis exchange their vows of everlasting love.” 

In a stage whisper, Harry says, “This sounds very serious.” 

Niall shushes him, carrying on just as regally, “The vows you are about to exchange will serve as a verbal representation of the non-verbal emotions that are as real as any thing that can be seen, heard, or touched. For it is not the words that you will speak today that will bond you together as one—but the strength of the love and commitment found deep within your souls.” 

Once Niall takes a breath for a dramatic pause, Louis glances at Harry. He can tell they both feel the same kind of giddiness, silly and a little embarrassed to be putting on such a display in public. A few park-goers have actually stopped several meters away to watch, and it takes everything in him to keep from laughing. 

“Louis,” Niall starts again—he turns his attention back to Niall, biting the inside of his cheek to calm his smile. “Will you take Harry to be your husband, your partner in life and your one true love? Will you cherish his friendship and love him today, tomorrow and forever? Will you trust and honor him, laugh with him and cry with him? Will you be faithful through good times and bad, in sickness and in health as long as you both shall live?” 

Louis wants to make a quip about how that all seems like quite a lot of work, but he hesitates too long to make the joke worth it. Instead he looks back to Harry again, surprised to find his smile noticeably softer. “I will,” is all Louis says instead. He wiggles his fingers a bit in Harry’s hold, feeling how sweaty he’s gotten, but Harry doesn’t let go. 

Niall repeats the exact same set of vows for Harry, but Harry watches Louis instead. _This_ feels romantic. It feels like real, proper romance, the way Harry’s eyes don’t leave his throughout Niall’s entire spiel, just watching him intently. Louis almost feels nervous by the time Niall reaches the final line; it’s been a long time since he’s had Harry’s attention this concentrated on him alone. 

“I will,” Harry repeats, and the moment is effectively broken—he smiles wider again and they both look back at Niall, who slaps his phone between his palms like he’s closing a book. 

“Take out your rings,” Niall says, slipping his phone into his pocket, apparently content to wing it the rest of the way through the ceremony. They both pull the rings out of their pockets, and Niall gestures between them, “You—may now exchange rings.” 

Harry beats him to it, grabbing Louis’ left hand to slip the ring back onto his finger. It feels incredibly heavy, just like it did the first time, but there’s already a very faint indent in his skin that it settles right into. Louis does the same, pushing Harry’s ring back in place, and decides to hold Harry’s hands again afterward, avoiding his eyes to watch Niall instead. 

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you… Husband and husband!” Niall announces. 

A very small crowd has gathered around them by now, a little more than half a dozen people. One guy lets out a silly cheer which sets them all off, and suddenly a handful of people are applauding them for their fake marriage. Slightly hesitant, Niall continues the charade, “You may now kiss?” 

Louis immediately wishes he hadn’t said it. Still, he knows that refusing to kiss Harry would make things much weirder than going along with it. He decides to play it up, letting go of Harry’s fingers to cup his face instead, holding his cheeks in both hands. Harry seems a little surprised, so Louis doesn’t make him wait—he pulls him in and kisses him, firm but brief, laughing into it when he feels Harry smile against his mouth. 

Their onlookers cheer until they pull away from each other. To Louis, it seems ridiculous to imagine this might be real—he and Harry are dressed down as casually as they can be, and Niall’s priest get-up is hardly convincing. He almost feels guilty for tricking some kind strangers into thinking they just shared a _real_ life milestone with them. 

Still, the pure boost in his mood thanks to their little crowd feels worth the white lie. 

-

By the time evening rolls around, Louis is exhausted. He and Harry have a boring night in as it is, following their wedding in the park; they order in a pizza and basically watch telly the rest of the night. There isn’t much worth filming, but Louis manages to get a few clips of them arguing over pizza toppings and what show to queue up next. 

He only makes it to 10:30, yawning wide at the end credits before saying, “I gotta get to bed, man. I’m about to pass out.” 

“I’ll come with you,” Harry says, shutting off the TV. 

Surprised, Louis insists, “You don’t have to do that. Could get in some alone time, f’you want.” 

“Alone time on my honeymoon? Nah,” Harry says. He gives Louis a friendly nudge and smiles at him, “Go ahead. I’ll be right in, need a wee first.” 

“Alright,” Louis says, too tired to argue. He goes straight to his bedroom without bothering to clean his teeth or wash his face, pulling off his jeans before crawling into bed in the shirt and pants he wore all day. 

Harry’s not far behind, coming in just as Louis’ gotten settled, stretched out on his front and already burrowed into the covers with a pillow tucked under his head. Blearily, he watches Harry get undressed and notices how much more intimate it feels to see him like this again, going through the motions at bedtime instead of showing off for the camera. Harry drapes all of his clothes except the pants he’s still wearing over the back of Louis’ desk chair and turns off the light on his way to bed, climbing in slowly. 

“Hi,” Louis mumbles, too sleepy to twitch when their bare legs touch under the blanket, though he registers the feeling. 

Harry laughs softly at him, “Hi. Got up a bit too early today, I think.” 

“ _You_ woke me up,” Louis specifies, letting his eyes close. “You and your bloody snoring.” 

“Sorry,” Harry says, though mostly he sounds amused. “Wake me up next time, I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

Louis means to reply, but before he can think of something to say back, Harry’s palm lands gently between his shoulderblades and slides down his spine in a smooth, slow path. Almost instantly, Louis feels like he’s 19 again—lying in his tiny twin sized bed with Harry next to him, rubbing Louis’ back until he feel asleep. It’s almost Pavlovian, the way his heart speeds up in the same moment his mind slows down. Harry doesn’t slip his hand underneath Louis’ top like he did back then, though; instead, he lifts it and starts all over again, rubbing from Louis’ shoulders to the small of his back, almost like he’s petting a cat. 

Louis falls asleep before he plans to, face half buried in his pillow. 

 

_**Day 3** _

He wakes up in the exact same position, only with a small circle of drool on the pillowcase under his cheek. 

Harry isn’t in bed, but there’s a note on the pillow next to him. Though his eyes will hardly stay up, Louis pulls it close to himself to read: _I made you breakfast, but didn’t want to wake you so it’s covered on the cooker. Used the last of the eggs as well. We can buy groceries today after I’m done with uni, I’ll pay for half. H x_

It’s a sweet gesture that Louis is almost sure is for the vlog’s sake, writing him a note in bed instead of a text, but it makes him smile nonetheless. He rolls onto his back and decides to film himself saying good morning while lounging in bed, almost shocked when he goes to grab the camera from his nightstand and sees that it’s nearly 11am. 

“Good morning, guys,” he says to the camera, still blinking himself awake. “Last night I was _exhausted_ , Harry and I went to bed at, like—I’m not sure, not even 11, but it’s practically 11 in the _morning_ now. I slept nearly 12 hours. Suppose I’m not a morning person. 

“Anyway, Harry let me sleep in. Must’ve been tired enough to ignore his snoring, m’not sure. He left me quite a cute note, though,” he says, rolling back over to focus on the note, now lying in the crumpled sheets on Harry’s side of the bed. “I don’t know what he’s made for breakfast, but I’m just glad I don’t have to do it meself. I might have to keep him around longer than a week,” he jokes. 

Breakfast is just a simple omelette, egg and cheese and what appear to be peppers that must’ve been sitting unopened in Louis’ cupboards for ages. He heats the plate in the microwave and sits down at the couch to eat, taking a quick snap of the food. He captions it _I’ve got the loveliest husband_ and adds it to his story, sending it directly to Harry as well, since he’ll never see it otherwise.

To Louis’ surprise, Harry snaps him back just a few moments later. It’s set to run the full ten seconds, just a shot of Harry’s boots against a tile floor, _I think I do, actually._

Instead of sending another photo, Louis just smiles and texts him in the app’s messaging system, _I won’t argue with you on that one :)_

-

“Okay, this time I’m actually texting him,” Louis tells the camera, zooming in on his phone as he texts Harry with one hand. It reads, _I’m gonna pick you up. Same building?_

Immediately, Harry starts texting back, so Louis keeps the camera on his phone. “Suppose there’s no reason to make it a surprise this time. I’m pretty sure all we’re doing today is getting the shopping done… At least, _I_ don’t have a date planned. If Harry does, he’s keeping it a secret.” Just then, Harry’s message comes through, _Yes :) You don’t have to come inside, I’ll come find you._

Louis stops the video to send back, _Maybe I want to see what you’re working on in there all day !_

_I’ll tell you all about it when you pick me up, sweetcheeks :) .xx_

-

Louis has the camera running when Harry climbs in the car to record their greeting, but before he can say anything, Harry asks him, “You said I could take photos of you, yeah?” 

Slightly wary, Louis says, “I did say that…” 

“I’ve got a project due,” Harry explains, buckling himself in, the strap of his seatbelt pinning his own camera to his chest. “It’s not, like, a big one or whatever, but I thought photographing our week might be cool. It saves me picking another topic, at least, and it could turn out sick.” 

“You’ll have to title it something really pretentious. _Temporary Domesticity_ or summat,” Louis says. 

“ _Temporary Commitment_ ,” Harry tests out instead. 

“That stings a little,” Louis tells him. He poses it as a joke, but it’s not entirely untrue. 

“Honestly, I think everyone’ll love it. I can make it sound really, like, deep,” Harry grins. “Like—how our dependence on hiding behind our cameras affects our partnership. What it feels like to perform a relationship for the internet. Shit like that.” 

“Right. High art,” Louis says, zooming in on the camera around Harry’s neck before turning his own around to get a shot of his face, “and not at all art. Should be cool to see the differences, though.” 

“I think what you do is art,” Harry argues. “Not everyone can do it, make good videos that people actually want to watch. You’re talented.” 

“Thanks, babe,” Louis says, and actually means it. “I don’t really consider it art, to be honest. Just kinda fun. A fun job.” 

“I think art should be fun,” Harry shrugs. “Either way—you’re good at it. And you’re really photogenic which makes my job fun and easy, as well.” 

“You trying to flatter me?” Louis asks, flushing a warm pink. 

“Don’t need to flatter you, do I? Already got you to marry me,” Harry says, shooting him a cheeky wink. 

-

Throughout the rest of the day, Harry has his camera out more often than Louis does. He takes photos of Louis picking things off the shelf at the shop, of Louis driving them back home, of Louis making them tea, of Louis glaring at him later in the evening after he’s gotten tired of so many fucking photos. 

Video feels different to Louis. It’s more confessional and casual, like chatting with loads of friends through a one-way FaceTime connection. He can just wang on about whatever he likes and do the ridiculous challenges that those invisible friends suggest, and everyone’s happy. Being photographed is more like being scrutinized, especially when Harry’s the photographer. Not even in a bad way—he just gets this sense of being under a microscope, his every move analyzed to determine what shot might pack the most punch. It’s more weighty than a video running while he plays FIFA for the internet. 

Luckily, though, Harry likes candid shots more than posed ones. He never tells Louis where to stand or what to look at or how to hold himself, just waits for an opportune moment and silently snaps a few photos, briefly checking how they turned out before going on with his business. Still, after what feels like a hundred photos, Louis begins to lose his patience. 

Harry’s even got his camera out while cuddled up in bed, blankets nearly to his chin, looking through the pictures from the day. He sits up when Louis pulls his shirt off and takes another photo then, which makes Louis sigh. 

“I’ll sue you for pornography,” he threatens, tossing his top into a pile of dirty laundry he has yet to sort. 

“You’ll lose. We’re married, and you’ve got video of my willy.” 

“Just because we’re married doesn’t mean you can take indecent photos of me,” Louis insists, blatantly ignoring the rest of Harry’s response which undermines his case. 

Harry says back, just as insistent, “It’s not indecent! I can’t even see a nipple.” 

“And you won’t get to,” Louis says. He holds one arm over his chest to cover his nipples from Harry’s view, searching in his drawer for another top to wear to bed. He settles on a vest, an old one that’s become stretched and misshapen through the years. 

“Pity, that,” Harry sighs. He settles back down against the pillows, but pulls the blankets away from Louis’ side for him. 

Louis turns the lights off and climbs into bed, waiting until he feels Harry start to put his camera away before he decides to ask, “Show me them?” 

Harry does. It’s easier for Louis to get close to him in the dark, pressing in until he can feel some wild stray hairs of Harry’s tickling his cheek. The photos all look quite nice, even unedited on a tiny camera view screen. Looking at them makes this thing they’re doing, this charade at intimacy, seem more real than it actually is—seeing himself reach for a bread flavor he knows Harry likes, his £5 wedding ring perfectly in focus.

“I like ‘em,” he admits quietly. 

“Told you you’re photogenic,” Harry says, just as soft. He pauses on one of the more recent pictures, where Louis is staring past the camera at Harry behind it, discontent plainly written on his face. “I like this one a lot.” 

“I look pissed off,” Louis laughs, curling up more comfortably in bed. His knuckles drag against Harry’s bare side under the blankets when he moves. 

“You look—I dunno,” Harry says. He rolls away to set his camera safely on the floor, settling back into place afterward. “Maybe I just like that you’re looking at me and not the camera. Makes it feel more real, I guess.” 

Louis hums and goes for a joke, “At least something about this is real, yeah?” 

When Harry speaks again, Louis can hear something like a frown in his voice. “More than just that is real. More’s real than not, I think.” 

A touch more desperately, Louis tries for playful again, “Well—except for the whole, like. The whole marriage bit. Think we can agree that’s not real.” 

“Hey, we made a commitment. Just because it’s only for a week…” Harry trails off. His voice is noticeably more neutral, which allows Louis’ tensed muscles to relax again. 

“And we’re halfway through that already,” Louis points out. Eager to move on, he plays up a yawn and sighs into his pillow after, mumbling to Harry, “Good night.” 

“Night, Lou,” Harry whispers back. They don’t say anything else, but after several minutes, Harry’s hand drops gently onto his back just like the night before, rubbing slow circles through the thin fabric of his vest. 

 

_**Day 4** _

Louis wakes to Harry’s fingers on the back of his neck, squeezing very lightly. “Louis.” 

For a moment, Louis is tempted to reach up and slap his hand away, despite how comforting the weight of it is. He’s not ready to wake up just yet. “Mm?” 

“I wanna take you out today. I’m skipping my lecture,” Harry tells him. Now that Louis’ awake, apparently, he decides to move his hand back to his own space. Louis has yet to open his eyes. 

Groggily, he mumbles, “Take me out where?” 

“It’s a surprise,” Harry says happily. “I want to leave soonish, though. But I’ve gotta pack everything up first. It’ll take, like—a couple hours to get there.” 

“A couple hours?” Louis asks, finally forcing his eyes open. He blinks roughly a few times and yawns. “Why so long?” 

“It’s a surprise!” Harry repeats. When Louis finally looks up at him, he sees Harry holding his video camera, grinning at him. “Good morning.” 

Louis laughs then, burying his face in his pillow. “Gonna have to edit out this face, bet I look terrifying.” 

“You look lovely,” Harry says, ruffling his hair. Louis smiles to himself, pressed into the pillow. “Will you stay in here while I get everything ready?” 

“Long as I can sleep some more.” 

“You can sleep.” 

“Won’t move a muscle, then,” Louis confirms, giving the camera a thumbs up without lifting his face. 

-

They don’t end up leaving early. Harry decides to get most of the chores done before they take off, insisting it’ll be nicer to come back to a tidy home: “It’s, like, an all-day kinda thing, I guess. I just think it’ll be better to get it out of the way.” 

‘It’ ends up being laundry, dishes, and a change of sheets for the bed, which takes long enough that they both agree to make breakfast at the house instead of grabbing it on the way. Breakfast leads to more dishes and a spontaneous kip for Harry while Louis grabs himself a shower, and it’s pushing 2pm by the time they make their way to the car. 

The drive is really, absurdly long, but pleasant nonetheless. They chat amiably for an hour or so before lapsing into silence, which is when Harry reaches into the backseat to dig out a CD from his bag. As soon as he pops it in Louis’ disc player, he knows what it is: “Fuck, you still have this?” 

“Course I do,” Harry grins, “I like it! Thought it’d be good for our first proper date.” 

Louis aims his own smile out the window, watching the weeds growing by the road pass in a blur. The CD is one Louis burned years ago for Harry, just full of songs he’d liked at the moment—he still doesn’t know if Harry genuinely liked the tracks or if he always just pretended for Louis’ sake. They listened to it together a ridiculous number of times regardless, so much that even hearing the opening notes of the first track places him firmly back in those days, engulfing him in nostalgia. 

The songs get faster and poppier the further south they drive, and after a few upbeat tracks go by, Louis decides to set up the camera. He lets it run on the dash, facing them for now, and collapses into laughter as Harry bursts into an enthusiastic singalong. 

After two hours of driving pass by, Louis is surprised to find that he’s not all that impatient. He’s filmed a bit more; clips of them driving along the freeway and, now, a more secluded road, himself discussing Harry’s secret plans. The longer they drive in the same direction, the more Louis thinks he knows where they’re headed; still, he films himself asking Harry, “Are you taking me to a beach?” 

“Could be,” Harry says, which means yes. 

Louis smiles wide and shuts off the camera, focusing on the scenery outside instead. “I can smell it, I think. Saltwater, yeah? I haven’t been to a beach in _ages_.” 

“I know you haven’t. Well—I assumed, at least. I was pretty sure you hadn’t,” Harry laughs. “I think it’ll be nice. My mate from down here, Geoff, he gave me directions. Said there shouldn’t be many people around.”

As it turns out, ‘not many people’ means literally no one. Louis films the completely empty beach while Harry drives along; he pulls right up onto the pebbled shore to park since there’s no one to tell them otherwise. 

Louis says, “You weren’t joking about no one being around.” 

“I planned it this way,” Harry lies, smiling at him while unbuckling his seatbelt. “It’ll be more romantic, all by ourselves.” 

Louis climbs out and slowly pans the camera across the horizon, getting a view of the ocean first and then the open fields behind them, likely used for farming. There’s a long dirt road across from the one they drove in on, and in the far distance Louis spots some minuscule buildings that might be houses. The beach is entirely made up of pebbles and rocks, decreasing in size the closer they are to the water; he momentarily yearns for the soft-looking sandy beaches he sees on American telly, but the thought is outweighed by the desire to jump straight in the ocean. 

“This is really, really nice,” he says, not at all playing up his pleasure for the vlog. He walks around to Harry and insists, “C’mere, gimme a cuddle,” before pulling him into a hug. He doesn’t attempt to get a good angle for the video, just goes slightly onto his toes to get his arms around Harry’s shoulders. Before he pulls out of it, he cups the back of Harry’s head and presses a firm kiss to his cheek. 

Harry looks a bit pink when he steps back. “You like it?” 

“I do like it,” Louis promises, ending the clip. “D’you wanna come in the water with me?” 

“Absolutely. I brought—hang on,” Harry says, hurrying back to the boot of the car. 

Louis follows him, peeking inside as Harry rifles through the things he packed. There’s loads of bottled water and a cooler presumably filled with food, a huge stack of blankets and towels and some spare sets of clothing, but Harry keeps looking even after he’s gone through everything. 

“What is it?” Louis asks. 

“I… think I’ve forgotten to pack swim shorts.” 

“You forgot to pack swim shorts. For either of us?” 

“Yeah,” Harry confirms. He looks a bit bashful. 

“You just drove me, like, nearly three hours to a beach, and didn’t pack swim shorts.” 

“Looks that way.” 

“Right,” Louis says, laughing partially because it’s hilarious but mostly because of the downtrodden look Harry’s sporting. He can’t help himself—he turns the camera back on and talks into the lens, “So… Harry and I are at the beach for our first date, and he’s forgotten to pack swim shorts.” He gets a good shot of all the things in the boot of the car, “About 65 water bottles, enough food for a family of five, _several_ more blankets than I imagine will be necessary. But no swim shorts.” 

“Obviously I planned this as well. My way of getting you to skinny-dip,” Harry says, nudging his shoulder. 

“I’m not skinny-dipping in the ocean,” Louis laughs. “Could go in our pants, I reckon. They’d probably dry pretty quick once we’re out, d’you think?” 

“Probably. Mine are white, though,” Harry says, tugging down the waist of his jeans to show the camera his pants. “Like—it’d be pretty obscene regardless.” 

“I mean, it’s not like anyone’s gonna see you,” Louis says, pointedly looking around them at all the empty space, “but f’you’re so worried you could just jump in with your clothes on. You’ve brought spares.” 

“Are _you_ going in your pants?” 

“I’m going in my pants,” Louis confirms. 

“Then so will I,” Harry says. “Solidarity with my husband.” 

“Oh, darling,” Louis simpers. He gets a quick shot of himself patting Harry’s cheek before turning the camera off again, smiling at him. “Get some towels, then.” 

Louis sets the camera up on the hood of his car and just lets it run, walking in its line of sight to undress. He’s not nearly as self-conscious as he was before starting his YouTube channel, but he still may edit this bit out; watching himself and Harry strip their clothes off in the playback may be more voyeuristic than usual. They slather on sunscreen once they’re down to their pants, and Louis rubs a palmful into the middle of Harry’s back, the only spot he can’t reach by himself. 

He doesn’t worry about getting great shots after they wade out into the water. It’s fucking _freezing_ , hardly warmed at all by the early summer sun, but the waves are gentle, letting them move about freely. Harry does handstands under the water and Louis floats on his back, submerging himself when he feels the sun start to burn away all the water droplets from his skin. 

Since they arrived so late, it feels like no time at all passes before the sky begins to pink up. Louis makes himself vertical again and turns away from the wide expanse of ocean to watch the sun slowly setting, treading water. Harry floats up behind him after a moment and slides an arm around Louis’ shoulders, chest against his back under the water, casual in a way they haven’t been for a long time. Louis doesn’t bother hiding his smile. 

“I brought you here for something else, as well,” Harry says, voice just loud enough to hear over the sloshing of the waves. 

“Did you?” 

“Yup.” Harry’s fingertips rest in the hollow of Louis’ collarbone, and the next wave lazily pushes their bodies closer together. “There’s this, like—this map of places that’re good for stargazing. Spots that’re darker, without lots of light pollution, yeah?” 

“Right,” Louis says, turning his head just enough to look at Harry through his peripheral vision. His chin feels cool against Louis’ shoulder. 

“This is a really good one,” Harry tells him. “There’s hardly any big cities around and we’ll be able to see loads more stars than we could at home. I was thinking, like… We could get dressed soon and walk through one of the fields, maybe, find a good spot to spread out a blanket. We can head back whenever you want, as well.” 

Louis doesn’t respond for a moment, looking ahead again at the sun as it disappears behind a row of clouds, turning the sky a deep orange. “Why aren’t you actually someone’s boyfriend?” he asks eventually. “This is probably the best date I’ve ever been on.” 

Harry takes several long seconds to reply, as well. “Guess I haven’t met anyone I like quite enough to go through all this trouble for.” 

Louis stays quiet then, thinking _except me?_ on a loop, too nervous to speak the words out loud. 

-

They strip off their wet pants out in the open, dressing themselves in the spare clothes Harry brought along for the trip. Louis picks out the biggest blanket packed in the boot and, after several moments of deliberation, decides to leave his camera in the car. 

Harry raises both eyebrows at him and nods at it before they head off, a silent question, _You’re not taking it?_

“Won’t be very good lighting,” Louis answers with a shrug. Really, he still has nearly an hour of suitable daylight he could film in, but he selfishly wants to file away a little slice of this trip for himself, something he’s not sharing with hundreds of thousands of strangers. 

“Might still bring mine,” Harry considers. He’d been too nervous to take it near the water, sure he’d drop it in. “Could mess with the exposure a bit, plus I think it’s quite close to a full moon. Should be plenty for a good photo.” 

“Yeah, feel free,” Louis says, locking up the car after Harry’s grabbed his camera. 

Louis carries the blanket bundled up in his arms and Harry takes control of the cooler with their food inside, slinging the strap over his shoulder. The walk through the field is beautiful, in a word—Louis’ relaxed, letting his elbow bump against Harry’s as they make their way further away from the car, slowly inching closer to the horizon. 

The sunset melts away quickly, like it always does, gone before he feels like he can appreciate it. Once the sky’s turned a milky blue, Harry pulls his camera up to his face and snaps a quiet photo of Louis’ profile, stopping to check it afterward. 

Louis takes a few slower steps before turning around to face him, not surprised to see Harry taking another photo. “Haz.” 

“I’m coming,” Harry promises. He hurries the few paces ahead to catch up again, smiling at him, “Pictures look nice.” 

“You do keep telling me I’m photogenic,” Louis says, smiling back. 

They walk much further than Louis imagined they’d go before he realizes they’re supposed to be looking for a spot to settle. When he finally stops and turns around, he can’t even see the car in the rapidly dwindling light anymore. 

Harry pauses when Louis does. “D’you wanna set up here?” 

“Yeah,” Louis says. He shakes out the blanket and begins to spread it on the ground, over the soft, tall grass, “I’m fucking starving, what’ve you got in there?” 

Harry’s cooler holds several cold wraps stuffed with meat and leafy veg, and an assortment of energy bars that are practical frozen at this point. (“I’ll cook you a real dinner soon to make up for that,” Harry laughs.) The long drive and a few hours in the sun have made Louis hungry enough to overlook the subpar meal; he eats happily, tilting his head back every few moments to try and spot more stars as they come into focus in the growing darkness. 

The moon ends up catching his attention first. It’s very close to full, like Harry expected, only a sliver left to complete the sphere. When he’s finished eating, Louis stretches out onto his back on the blanket to keep from craning his neck, pressed close enough to feel Harry’s body heat warming his right side. 

“I should’ve brought some pillows,” Harry whispers when he lies down next to him. 

He looks sleepy, blinking hard a few times before forcing his eyes wide open for a split second. Louis is hit with a familiar fondness and the urge to reach out and touch him, run his fingers through his hair. It’s been so long since he did that last, he has to wonder if he’d get snagged on little knots on the way through now that it’s grown so much. 

“Looks like you’d fall right asleep if we had pillows,” Louis says. 

“I probably would,” Harry admits with a little laugh. “Wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Could make this a camping trip.” 

“I wouldn’t want to consummate my marriage in a tent,” Louis says, aiming for teasing. 

Similarly playful, Harry mumbles, “Ideally, we would’ve consummated it long before now.” 

“I’m a man of morals, Harold. I don’t consummate with just anyone.” 

“You have standards, then?” 

“I do,” Louis confirms. He looks back up at the sky, a small smile still stuck in place. The stars look incredible this far away from the city, so many bright pinpricks of light across a cobalt-black sky, but Louis is distracted by the press of Harry’s bare arm against his own. 

Harry asks, “And what do I need to do to meet those standards? Wish I’d’ve known before the wedding.” 

“I thought you brought me here to look at the stars, not flirt,” Louis says, cheeks a bit warm as he gives the accusation. 

With a grin, Harry says, “I’d like to think I can handle both,” pointedly brushing the backs of his fingers against Louis’. 

-

It’s past midnight when they get home from the beach. Louis heads for a shower after they’ve unloaded all their things from his car, but Harry goes straight to bed—by the time Louis’ clean and dressed, he’s sleeping soundly. 

Louis leaves his bedside lamp on and climbs in bed next to him, closer than they usually are. Harry’s migrated toward the middle of the bed in his sleep without Louis there to block his way, encroaching on a bit of his side, but he doesn’t bother waking him to make him move. 

After a few drowsy moments of contemplation, Louis decides to vlog about the tail end of the trip that he never recorded. He turns the camera on and whispers, “Hi, guys. Harry and I are home now,” here he turns to get a quick shot of his sleeping face, “and he’s already passed out. The beach was really, really nice. I didn’t film the last bit because we went out into, like, a field to stargaze, and there wasn’t nearly enough light for a good clip. 

“It was lovely, though. You might’ve gathered from the video earlier, but he brought along some dinner for us and a bunch of blankets, so we walked across to that field,” here he pauses, planning to insert a quick photo of the field they went through so the viewers will have an idea, “and just spread out a blanket to eat and lie down for a while. Since there’s _so_ many lights in the city it’s basically impossible to see many stars at all, but down there it was, like—incredible, honestly. I can’t remember ever seeing that many stars at once in my life before.” 

Louis sighs, and considers ending it there. Following a long second of silence, he continues, “Harry and I used to hang out all the time, as well, but we haven’t spent loads of time together recently.” It’s an understatement—after Louis moved out of their shared flat to live with his girlfriend at the time, their contact tapered off into near radio silence for over a year. It’s been a gradual rebuilding since then; the last time Louis saw him before their lunch date on Sunday was practically two months ago. 

Trying to clear his head, Louis repeats himself, “So—we haven’t spent loads of time together recently, so it’s been really nice getting to do that again. He was definitely my best friend a couple years ago, and you all know how sometimes that sort of… I dunno, it just changes? I don’t know. But it’s nice to hang out with him again. Maybe we’ll do a part two of this challenge one day,” he whispers as playfully as he can muster, signing it off there. Immediately after stopping the video, he plans on editing most of that out. 

He puts the camera away and turns off his light, curling up next to Harry under his blankets. 

 

_**Day 5** _

Louis wakes to Harry drooling against his shoulder and a phone alarm going off across the room. He groans openly when he sees that it’s only 7am. 

“Harry,” Louis says, loud enough that it startles him awake. 

It takes him a split second, but Harry sits up and looks around, “Fuck, sorry,” trying to locate his phone. 

“Go get it!” Louis demands, shoving at his arm a bit more insistently than he would at a later hour. 

The 30 seconds he takes to find his phone buried in the pocket of his folded jeans is perhaps the most obnoxious 30 seconds Louis has ever lived through. He buries himself back into the blankets when the noise stops, but squints his eyes open again when Harry crawls back in bed. 

“What’re you doing?” 

“Got lecture at 8,” Harry mumbles, sprawling out close. His body presses almost entirely against Louis’, though he’s on top of the blankets rather than underneath them. All Louis can feel is the pressure. 

“Get up, then,” he yawns. 

“Mm-mm. Gonna skip breakfast,” Harry says. 

The second time Louis wakes up it’s to Harry cursing with an unusual vigor, which he thinks is justified considering he now has 7 minutes to make it to his lecture on time. Louis manages to blearily record the tail end of Harry’s rush, catching him as he jumps into a pair of jeans and slings a loud patterned shirt on, not bothering to do up the buttons before he runs out of the bedroom, ignoring Louis’ laughter. 

Since he can’t manage to fall back asleep after Harry leaves, Louis uses the morning to catch up on his social media. He responds to loads of tweets and YouTube comments and decides to upload a pre-recorded video, a quick review on a TV series he’s been asked loads about. Just to build interest for the marriage video and tease Harry a bit, he takes a photo of himself looking sad and posts it to Instagram with the caption, _Missing my husband while he’s off getting a fancy degree.. x_ , and tags it with Harry’s account. 

By mid-afternoon, following a long internet browse, Louis considers himself ready for his date night. He takes the camera along on his way to pick up Harry from uni again and tells everyone, “So for my planned date night, I’ve decided to take Harry out to the funfair. It’s not, like—I guess it’s not as _romantic_ as what he did for me yesterday, but I think he’ll have a good time. The last time either of us went to one we went together, and that was years and years ago as far as I know. So I think it’ll be cute! Nostalgic,” he says, smiling to himself as he guides the car through traffic. “Should be good.” 

Harry looks exhausted when he climbs in the car, slumping down in the passenger seat. “Hiya.” 

“Y’alright?” Louis asks. He’s got the camera recording to catch his reaction, and is hoping Harry won’t want to go straight home. 

“I’m good. Bit sleepy,” Harry admits. 

When he doesn’t extrapolate, Louis decides to risk it, “How sleepy, exactly? I’d like to take you on a date.” 

That changes Harry’s demeanor. He grins and pushes himself up a bit straighter in his seat, “Would you?” 

“We can go right now if you like.” 

“Do I, like, need anything? Should I put on different clothes?” Harry asks, looking down at himself. He has, at least, done up a few of the buttons on his shirt since Louis last saw him. 

“Nah, don’t think you’ll need anything. I’ve got all the cash we need and you’re dressed just fine, it’s not fancy,” Louis says, pulling out of the lot. 

Now noticeably more chipper, Harry asks, “Are you going to tell me where it is?” 

“Of course not! It’s not far, anyway, you’ll see soon enough,” Louis says, smiling to himself. In the back of his mind, he’s a bit worried it’ll be an anticlimactic reveal, but he pushes the thought away. 

-

If Harry’s disappointed, he hides it well. The drive is quite short and he catches on as soon as they pass the second sign pointing to the fairgrounds, turning to face Louis with a grin, “Are you taking me to the fair?” 

“Could be,” Louis says, mimicking Harry from the day before. He smiles to himself, pleased that he doesn’t seem underwhelmed. 

It’s a good day for it. The funfair’s only just been set up and, being a Thursday night, there’s not nearly as many children running around as there will be throughout the weekend proper. Louis parks them as close as he can manage and walks beside Harry into the main grounds, both of them holding their cameras up—Harry taking photos while Louis speaks for the vlog, “We’ve arrived! It’s really early and quite empty still, but that just means we’ll have shorter lines to wait in.” 

Once Louis’ purchased them an armful of tickets, he trains the camera on Harry, “What would you like to do first, then, my darling? Want something to eat?” 

“Yeah,” Harry says, smiling wide enough that his dimple shows, looking at Louis instead of the camera. “Long as we don’t do any, like… really intense rides after. Wouldn’t want to vom on you.” 

“Let’s not, thanks,” Louis laughs. He turns the video off for a bit and leads them over to a row of food trucks, cakes and snowcones being sold next to hamburgers and chips, all across from a massive line of funfair games. 

“I’m leaning towards a burger,” Harry says, eyeing the trucks. He pauses where they stand to get a photo of the closest one, a grinning old woman hanging out of the truck’s window to hand a little boy his bright blue snowcone. It’ll probably make a lovely shot. He turns to Louis afterward and nudges him, “Would you like one?” 

“I’d love one,” Louis says. He guides Harry along the path towards the right truck with a hand on his back, hyper-focused on how warm his body is through his top. 

They find a long line of picnic tables set up just behind the trucks, nearly empty like most everything else this early in the evening. The sun is still stubbornly hanging in the sky, slicing their table in half with a sharp line of light. They sit on the same side of the table, backs to the glare, thighs pressed together while they eat. 

The fair starts to come alive by the time they’ve finished, leaning in closer to each other to fit in the frame while they vlog. “There’s actually _people_ here now,” Louis says, looking at Harry instead of the camera as he speaks. He’s gotten used to staring into an empty and lifeless lens over the past several years, but talking to another human always feels more natural. “Like, we may have to wait in proper long lines now.” 

“Suppose we will,” Harry says, shrugging his shoulders with a sigh. 

“What d’you wanna ride on?” 

“The ferris wheel, definitely,” Harry says first, propping an elbow on the table to get his hand in the frame and tick things off, one ride on each finger. “The carousel. Maybe those swinging chairs, as well. And they’ve got one that looks like a big ship that just rocks you back and forth, did you see that one? It was right when you come in.” 

“So you want to do all the gentlest rides they’ve got. Never have been an adrenaline rush kind of man, have you, Harold?” 

“Nope. You’re all the adrenaline I need,” Harry says, earnest to the point of comedy. He drops a kiss on Louis’ temple that seems more tender than the joke, and Louis feels his cheeks go pink. 

-

On Harry’s orders, they save the ferris wheel for last. The carousel especially gets them some funny looks from the parents of small children who are scattered around the platform, potentially because Louis climbs on one of the wooden horses backwards in order to film Harry’s reaction as they spin. Most of the clip is of Harry laughing at him as he nearly slips every time the horse raises him higher, since the bar to hold for balance is behind him where he can’t reach it. 

By the time they’ve waited in line and gone through the other rides Harry wants to go on, it’s pitch black out. The funfair itself isn’t terribly large; there are hardly more rides than the ones Harry chose, but there are multiple rows of games along every path. On their way to the ferris wheel, Louis gently grips Harry’s wrist to make him stop walking and gestures to one of the stands, “You wanna play?” 

“You know I’m bloody awful at those,” Harry laughs. “They’re all the accuracy games, you know? Tossing coins into glasses and that. Impossible stuff.” 

“Mm, impossible for you, maybe. I’ll win you something,” Louis offers, smiling at him, fingers still around his wrist. 

There’s a chance he’s projecting, but Harry seems charmed. “Gonna win me the biggest teddy they’ve got?” 

“Of course I will. Why else would I have bought all these fucking tickets?” 

There are three games set up along this path to the ferris wheel, and—as it turns out—Louis is bloody awful at them all, as well. The first is trying to toss flimsy plastic rings onto the necks of bottles; one ticket gets you five rings, so Louis hands over three tickets. In the end, he only manages to hook _two_ of his rings on the prize bottles, and is rewarded with a cheap metallic-painted necklace for his efforts. 

“Well,” he starts, draping the necklace over Harry’s head, “that didn’t go as planned. On to the next.” 

This time, Harry takes Louis’ vlogging camera to film his attempts. He does marginally better, which is welcome news since this footage will likely end up in the vlog. This game’s goal is to pop balloons with darts—the smaller the balloons you pop, the more extravagant the prize. Louis only manages to pop the biggest balloons, but Harry still cheers for him when he makes it, and makes sympathetic noises when he doesn’t. 

When he gets to choose a prize, Louis considers one of the stuffed teddies they’ve got propped along the back wall. They look ragged, though, rough and dirty and small, so instead he opts for a gaudy sparkling tiara that reads _PRINCESS_ , grinning when he shows it off to the camera. Harry laughs and tips his head to let Louis place it, turning the camera to check himself out in the tiny screen. 

“I’m all decked out now,” he says, lifting the necklace with his left hand to show off his ring along with the cheap carnival jewelry. 

“We’ve got one more game yet!” Louis announces, making his way further along the path. “I’m gonna do much better this time, I can feel it. Think you being my cheerleader really helped.” 

“Did it?” Harry asks, still holding onto the vlogging camera. “I’ll help you out again, then. I really am rooting for you, means I get loads of presents.” 

“Exactly.” The last game is the coin toss, and Louis is feeling confident. He scopes out the prizes and spots an enormous teddy next to an equally huge stuffed dog, looking much more lush than the scraggly old bears in the last stand. He asks the woman working behind the counter, “Tell me, what do I have to do to win that massive teddy?” 

“Just one coin straight in that middle glass there, love,” she says, pointing to the center of an intimidating number of glasses. The middle glass has a red-painted rim and is slightly more raised than the others, but also much more narrow. 

“Is that all, eh? What d’you think, darling?” Louis asks, turning back to Harry. He gives him a wink and turns back to the woman, “I’m trying to win it for ‘im, it’s our honeymoon this week. Been a bit down on me luck so far.” 

“Oh, aren’t you a sweet one,” she gushes, placing a hand over her heart. He hears Harry giggle in the background as he films, like he’s getting away with something. “I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully this time, if you’d like to give it a go.” 

Louis exchanges his tickets for an obscene amount of coins, preparing himself. Though he does a terrible job of it at first, sending coins flying to the ground nowhere near a glass, it’s easy to get the hang of it; the coins are weightier than the plastic rings, and after he’s eaten through a quarter of his stash he manages to sink one into a glass just on the outside of the red-rimmed one. Both Harry and the woman cheer in congratulations. 

“You’re doing so well, babe,” Harry says, obviously amused. Louis grins at him over his shoulder before he goes back to playing. 

Once he’s down to his last five coins, he begins losing hope. One makes it so close that it bounces off the rim of the winning glass, just a millimeter away from tipping inside, and everyone who happens to be politely watching groans along with him when it falls. He tosses the rest of his coins as precisely as he can, but none of them get even half as close. 

He throws his hands up once he’s run out, turning to Harry to pull him into an apologetic cuddle, cameras stuck between them. “What’s our consolation prize, then?” he asks the worker, checking out the rest of the prizes pinned to the wall. 

“You got so, so close. A coin in that inner ring there means you can have anything on this wall,” she tells them, gesturing to a spot filled with medium-sized stuffed toys and a few framed photographs. Louis has his sights set on a smaller version of the bear he was trying to win, but before he can ask which one Harry would like, the woman says, “You know what? You deserve this one, you can have it,” and takes down the massive bear, lugging it over to set it on the counter. 

“No, are you serious?” Louis asks, reaching out to help prop it up so it doesn’t fall in the dirt. 

“I am serious! It’s my wedding gift to you,” she says, happy and insistent, gently shoving the bear closer. More quietly, like it’s a secret for the adults, she adds, “I’ve got more in a truck out back behind here anyway, love, nobody’ll miss it.” 

“Thank you so much,” Louis laughs, picking the thing up. It’s alarmingly heavy for a stuffed toy, and nearly as tall as he is. “You’re so lovely, thank you.” 

Harry moves the camera to his left hand to thank her as well, sticking his right out for a handshake. She tugs him into as good of a hug as strangers can manage over a wide wooden counter, but Harry is unfazed, saying his thanks half into her shoulder. 

“You two have a wonderful night,” she says, waving them off as they step back. 

“Thank you,” they say in unison, grinning at each other. 

Louis leads them slightly off the path so they aren’t in anyone’s way, holding out his massive teddy for Harry to examine. It’s pleasantly soft with nice, fluffy white fur, though it’s also wearing a scarf which feels very seasonally inappropriate. 

“Do you like him?” 

“I _love_ him,” Harry laughs. They very carefully exchange handfuls, Harry passing the camera to Louis who passes him the bear. He takes his phone out of his pocket to get a photo of Harry posing with all his funfair spoils, sending it off to Instagram with the caption _Think I’m spoiling him x_

“I hope he’ll fit on the ferris wheel, actually,” Louis says. “I didn’t actually expect to get something so big!” 

“I knew you had it in you,” Harry teases. “He can sit with us, I’m not worried.” 

The line for the ferris wheel is the longest they’ve stood in yet, and they joke enough times during the wait about how terrible it’d be if they got up to the front and couldn’t come on with the bear that the thought is still with Louis when it’s their turn. The girl manning the turnstile looks young, probably just a teenager, and before they step onto the platform, he asks, “The bear’s alright, yeah?” 

“Long as I can buckle ‘im in!” she says happily, ushering them toward their seat. 

It’s a somewhat intimidating metal contraption like all ferris wheels Louis’ been on, rickety and creaking when they settle in. Louis is surprised when Harry scoots in right up against his side, settling the bear against the other wall instead of in between them like Louis had been expecting. 

“He’ll fit just fine,” Harry smiles. To the girl, he says, “My husband won him for me.” 

“Aw, that’s really nice,” she says indulgently, clicking their safety bar into place. 

To give them both more room, Louis stretches his arm out along the back of the car, behind Harry’s shoulders. “You gonna brag about it to everyone now?” he asks, amused. 

“I am. Gotta show off your skills, don’t I?” 

“You’ll give me a big head,” Louis jokes. 

As soon as the wheel starts moving, Harry leans more heavily against Louis’ side. He’s gotten taller over the years, and it’s most obvious like this; his knees are knocking into Louis’ and he has to slouch, curling into himself, making himself seem smaller. Louis can remember the playful indignation he felt when Harry grew that first half-inch taller than him, then the first inch—how they’d stretch out in bed and Harry’d make fun of how he couldn’t touch the edge of the mattress with his toes. 

“You’re so tall now,” he says without thinking. 

Harry hums. “It’s the shoes,” he replies, nudging the toe of his heeled boot against Louis’ sneaker. He leaves it there, tipping his head onto Louis’ shoulder. 

Suddenly, Louis thinks that he should be vlogging. The ferris wheel would make for some great footage, which is how he thinks of his life now—whether the moment will translate well in video, whether he should bother wasting storage space for a clip or not—but he can’t bring himself to turn the camera on. It’s like the stargazing from the night before. This little piece of their day is just for them, something not meant for consumption, a quiet moment he doesn’t want to ruin by forcing them to think about how it’ll look through someone else’s eyes. 

Neither of them move even when the ferris wheel starts to slow, coming to a complete stop to let the people on another car off the ride. They climb slowly toward the top as new riders are cycled on, and he expects Harry to pull out his camera to try for a landscape shot when they reach the peak, but he stays right where he is. 

It’s a lovely sight from up there. Louis can see the lights of the city stretching out for miles, and the glow of the fairground down below them, many more people milling about now. He finds himself thinking, _I could kiss him right now_ , and holds his breath until their car starts to move again, bringing them back down to solid ground. 

 

_**Day 6** _

On Friday, Louis wakes up so tangled in Harry that he’s disoriented. 

He fell asleep like he has most days this week, stretched on his belly with Harry rubbing his back; unlike the rest of the week, however, this morning Harry’s hand is still there. It’s resting on his bare skin underneath his t-shirt, sticky from sweat, one of the many places they’re touching. Harry’s mouth is pressed against his shoulder again, and Louis’ pretty sure the firm bulge against his thigh is Harry’s cock. 

It’s far from the first time they’ve woken up entwined, but it’s one of the first times Louis’ gotten to enjoy it without feeling sick from guilt. He isn’t in a hurry to wake up since neither of them have plans for the day—the only thing attempting to draw him out of bed is a gentle, insistent hunger. 

Just as he’s starting to doze back off, Harry begins to stir. His hand slides lower and comes to a stop just above Louis’ pyjamas, damp against his skin, and Louis feels him yawn into the shoulder of his top. 

“Morning,” he murmurs, just so he won’t let himself pretend to be asleep. 

“Morning,” Harry grumbles. His voice is always so unexpectedly rough after a long rest. “Better one than yesterday.” 

Louis smiles to himself, somewhat relieved he’s facing away from Harry. “Nothing to be late for, today.” 

Harry hums, sounding agreeable. He makes no effort to move away, still breathing against Louis’ shoulder.

After a few long, quiet moments, Louis is the one to speak again. “M’hungry.” 

“Mm. I can make something,” Harry offers. He finally stretches then, rolling himself onto his back to raise his arms above his head. 

Louis turns to face him once the heat of his hand is gone, watching his spine bend and relax as he completes the stretch. “What would you make?” 

Harry leaves his hands on the pillow above his head, eyes closed. “Eggs on toast? Fry-up, maybe? Think we’ve got enough for it.” 

“Eggs on toast,” Louis decides. 

Harry nods, unmoving. “In a minute, promise.” 

He’s only worn his pants to bed again. It’s easier to ignore at nighttime when they’re both half asleep as it is, but in the bold morning light that floods into Louis’ bedroom, he finds his eyes wandering. Harry’s got tattoos now, loads of them; Louis’ seen them all before somehow or another—in person when he’s shown all of their friends at a party or on his Snapchat story or an occasional text straight to Louis—but seeing them like _this_ is different. He’s especially drawn to the ones on his torso, the massive butterfly inked into his stomach and the pair of laurels that stretch across his hips. 

Neither tattoo is an ideal place to look. The butterfly draws his eyes up to Harry’s nipples, dark and stiff like they always are, and the laurels demand his gaze move down toward his cock. It looks full in his pants, at least on the way to hard—Harry is either unaware or unbothered, legs spread with one knee resting on top of Louis’. 

When Louis finally looks up again, he finds Harry watching him with the hint of a smirk. “You coming with me to the kitchen?” 

“Uh,” Louis says at first. Unable to allow himself the out that Harry’s kindly offering him, he asks, “You gonna put on some clothes?” 

“If you’d like me to,” Harry says. 

“Might be best. Wouldn’t want any harm to come to your willy, cooking nearly naked as you do. No good could come of that.” 

“You’ve got a point,” Harry agrees. He stands and makes his way over to the dwindling bag of clothes he’s packed, pulling out an outfit for the day. “I want a shower first, though.” 

“Yeah, course. Want me to start on breakfast?” Louis asks, pushing the blankets away to sit on the edge of the bed, yawning. 

“Nah, I want to cook for you,” Harry says, shoving his pants down his thighs before tossing them into the basket of dirty clothes. 

He’s not even close to fully hard, as it turns out, but there’s still a visible heft to his cock that Louis hasn’t seen before in the _numerous_ times Harry’s been naked in front of him. It’s embarrassing how long Louis stares before forcing his eyes away, into his own lap. “I’ll—wait here, then?” 

“Alright. Won’t be long,” Harry says, blatantly amused, if the tone of his voice is anything to go by. 

-

Once Louis’ cheeks stop burning, the day passes without incident. They eat their breakfast together on his living room sofa and end up back in bed by the early afternoon, both editing. Harry works on some of the photos he’s taken the last few days, choosing ones for his final portfolio, and Louis spends ages combing through the footage from the week for the best clips to add to the final video. 

He’s still working when Harry closes his own laptop and slouches down in bed, leaning obnoxiously against Louis’ side. “I feel like we should go on another date before tomorrow.” 

“D’you think?” Louis asks, jabbing an elbow against Harry’s ribs, rather gently. He doesn’t make a real attempt to push him off. 

“Yep. Last day as spouses, think we oughta make it count.” 

Louis is nowhere close to finishing his editing for the day, and he still has yet to film for his weekly Let’s Play series, but he closes his laptop as well anyway. “What would you like to do, then?” 

“I dunno, it doesn’t need to be anything flashy. Could just go for a walk?” 

“Probably be better than lying around here all day,” Louis agrees. He sets his computer on the nightstand and grabs the camera instead, checking how much battery life is left.

He films a rather late greeting for the video as he and Harry make their way out the door, bidding the giant teddy on the couch—who is now wearing Harry’s tiara and necklace—farewell. 

“I’ve called him Bernard, by the way,” Harry informs the camera, holding the door open for Louis to step out. “I think it suits him.” 

“He does look a bit like a Bernard,” Louis agrees. He locks the door and gets a shot of their feet as they make their way out onto the sidewalk. Harry makes an executive decision to turn right, so Louis follows, tucking the camera into his pocket. 

After they’ve strolled down to the end of the block and are waiting for traffic to pass, Harry says, “Hey, I’ve got an idea for the video.” 

“Yeah? What idea?” 

“Well… I was watching Niall’s earlier, and at the end of it all he gave Bressie the camera and let him do, like, a confessional type thing? Just talking about how doing the challenge affected him and how he feels about it and that. Thought maybe we could do it like that, but I didn’t know if you’d be interested,” Harry says, watching him intently while he waits for a response, even as they’re crossing the busy street. 

Louis grips his forearm to help hurry them along when the lights change again. “I love that idea, actually. Loved it in Niall’s video, as well,” he admits, letting Harry go when they’re back on the sidewalk. “You could do it tomorrow, if you like? I’ll probably be up pretty late editing so I can have it posted by Monday or Tuesday.” 

“Yeah, that’s fine. You could do one too, if you wanted.” 

“I will, I think. I’ve already got little bits and pieces I’ve done while you’re sleeping or showering or whatever, though, just shit I’ve said by myself, so—think it’d be good for you to get a say in,” Louis tells him. 

The idea of Harry doing a confessional video on their relationship over the past week is, in itself, a good idea. Regardless, it still makes Louis feel anxious. The possibility of getting an honest insight into what Harry thinks about him now is nerve-wracking, as it’s something he’s been wondering about for ages. He keeps all of his thoughts to himself, walking silently along the streets with Harry. 

His feet are just beginning to ache when Harry grabs his wrist, stopping them across the street from a milkshake shop. “D’you wanna go in?” he asks, grinning, obviously eager. 

“Didn’t know you were so keen on dairy,” Louis says. He starts a new video and films the front of the shop, panning over to Harry’s still-smiling face. 

“Do you remember the last time we went to one of these? We got, like, five milkshakes and shared them all. Drank every bit, as well. I got sick on the side of the road after that,” Harry laughs, leading them across the street during a lull in the traffic. 

“We’re only getting one this time,” Louis insists, going for stern. “Or—well, one each, obviously. No one wants to see you vom on camera.” 

“We could get one to share. Romantic,” Harry teases, holding the shop’s door open for Louis. 

“Mm, one straw or two? Are we going steady?” Louis asks, keeping the camera trained on Harry. He looks lovely today, hair clean and curly, a little smile still pulling at the edges of his mouth. 

“We’re married, love. Think we’re past going steady,” Harry says, giving the camera a little wink. Being in public makes him a bit silly about their marriage charade, the same way he was at the fair. “What flavor do you want?” 

“Surprise me. You know what I like,” Louis says, hoping that’s still true. 

He turns off the camera while they wait so the other customers aren’t uncomfortable, and Harry spends several moments rationalizing his potential flavor picks. In the end, he decides on a coffee-flavored ice cream base for the shake, insisting, “It’s like those frozen coffees you always used to get, it’ll be delicious. I want to try something adventurous.” 

Harry ends up ordering just one shake, a surprisingly huge one, and when they head to the counter he makes a show of picking out only one straw. A coffee milkshake isn’t terribly adventurous, but it is delicious. 

Instead of staying to sit in the cramped shop, they decide to walk another block or so to get to the community park, passing the milkshake between them as they go. There are loads of empty benches around scattered along the paths in the park, but Louis decides to steer them toward a thick tree with an impressive canopy of leaves. He sits down on the ground and leans against the trunk, patting the spot next to him and smiling up at Harry. 

It’s a perfect day to just sit outside and laze about; the weather is warm and there are plenty of people around, enjoying the sun. The whole park seems to be glowing more warmly as sundown gets closer, turning golden. Louis doesn’t bother filming much, though he does get a clip of them announcing their milkshake flavor decision and showing off a quick view of the park, just enough to fill a few seconds for the final video. Once their milkshake melts to the point of being inedible, Louis films another short video of Harry jogging to the nearest bin to get rid of it, narrating seriously, “I do love a man who cares for the environment. No littering from us.” 

When Harry comes back to the tree, he braces his hand on Louis’ knee as he sits and lets it slide to his thigh, leaving it there while he settles. It’s purposeful, not an accident, Louis’ sure; his heart does a quick leap into his throat, and he chews the inside of his lip. 

Instead of asking what he’s been thinking for the last several days, _what are we doing?_ , he taps the ring he bought for Harry and pushes it down his finger just a millimeter, making idle conversation, “I’m surprised this hasn’t started turning you green.” 

“I don’t actually think they’re made of cheap metal,” Harry says. His pinky stretches out and captures Louis’ index finger, curling around it. “I did expect to turn green, though, I won’t deny it.” 

Louis can’t think of anything to say back. He keeps his eyes on their hands and lets Harry hold his finger hostage, nudging all the others up against the side of his hand. His heart is beating so quickly that it’s like he’s back in secondary school, touching hands with the girl he’s fancied all year. 

Since they fell out of touch, Harry’s gotten bolder. It hits Louis all at once when Harry turns his hand over so that his knuckles are against Louis’ thigh, splaying his fingers open underneath Louis’—every time they’ve touched in the last week is burned into Louis’ memory and almost all of those times, Harry touched him first. He isn’t shy about it now either, lining up their fingers like they used to, just to see if Harry’s got any longer. There’s a good few centimeters between the tips of their fingers now, and Louis can feel his palm sweating. 

“I’ve felt like a kid again the past few days,” Harry murmurs, quiet. 

Louis moves his hand up to touch all of his fingertips to Harry’s. “I know,” he says back. Harry _was_ a kid, before—he was barely 18 when Louis moved out, sweet and hopeful and a bit crushed after Louis left. After a long, tense moment, Louis takes a breath and says what he’s been avoiding for nearly four years, “I think, sometimes—I wonder if I did the wrong thing.” 

Harry doesn’t respond, which feels like an answer in itself. He does slip his fingers into the spaces between Louis’, though, holding his hand properly. 

Louis lets himself feel it all, then. He knows he loved the girl he’d left Harry for, but that seems far away now that she’s been out of his life for so long. It felt like an ultimatum then: choose this _potential_ with Harry, something that may well have been a passing infatuation, or choose the solidity of the girl he already knew he loved. He knows he’s dramatized it in his mind over the years, painting extra layers of hurt and guilt over the memories, but they plague him regardless of what he truly felt at the time. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

“Our lease was up,” Harry says, voice kind and rational. “You wanted to live with her. I don’t blame you for that.” 

“It wasn’t worth it,” Louis admits, still staring at their hands, the way their fingers link up. Seeing it is like a visual representation of the opportunity he gave up. “But it wasn’t fair to her, I guess. If I’d stayed with you. I know we never talked about it, but…” 

“It wouldn’t have been fair, no,” Harry agrees. In his peripheral vision, Louis sees him tip his head back against the trunk of the tree. “I wanted, like—something more, _really_ badly. It wasn’t fair to either of you.” 

Louis is nearly sick with nerves, but simultaneously relieved at the chance to finally get it out in the open. “Suppose I thought I could have you both if I picked her, somehow,” he admits, turning his head just enough to hide his face from Harry. 

Harry’s thumb rubs a long the edge of Louis’ index finger, and he works hard to suppress a shiver. “I hate how stupid I acted after,” Harry says. There are long pauses between his sentences, like he’s taking extra care to construct them before he speaks. “I thought it’d be easier to get over it if I spoke to you less. And—well, it was, if I’m honest. But I regret that. You didn’t deserve that.” 

Louis has to look at him, then. His face is apologetic, staring out into the park until he notices Louis looking and meets his eyes. For the second time this week, Louis thinks seriously about what it’d be like to kiss him—a real kiss, not a joke captured on camera for a YouTube video. “I wonder sometimes what would’ve happened if I’d stayed with you,” he says, feeling unexpectedly vulnerable with Harry’s eyes on him. 

“I would’ve wooed you,” Harry says. His face softens and he smiles like he’s teasing, but his voice remains too serious to pull it off completely. “Would’ve taken you on all these dates back then.” 

Hearing what he could’ve had with Harry’s fingers still wrapped around his own, Louis becomes slightly desperate to lighten the conversation. He attempts a smile, pleased to find that it comes easily. “I’ve had a lot of fun,” he says honestly, allowing himself a bit more affection, leaning into Harry’s side. “Not just—you know, not just for the video. I missed hanging out with you.” 

“Me too,” Harry says, mirroring his smile. 

-

It feels like the spell is broken once they arrive back home. They kept their fingers linked the entire way back, walking leisurely along until the streetlights came on, but once they’re inside and remember they have things to do, the gentle fluttering that’s kept up in Louis’ belly since their talk begins to calm. 

They bump elbows at the kitchen counter to make sandwiches for their dinner, and after they’ve eaten Harry sits at the dining table to work on his uni assignments. Louis settles in on his couch next to Bernard the funfair bear and loads up his latest GTA save; he only uses his mic to record this episode of the series series, making sure it’s in the proper position before he gets started. 

He already knows he’s behind schedule with his videos this week. He hasn’t spared the time to think about anything other than the challenge—anything other than Harry, really—and his followers have not been hesitant to let him know it. But his Let’s Plays are one of his most popular series, and he can’t procrastinate on getting them out on time. He records his greeting and fills in the viewers on what happened in the last part, silently promising himself that he’ll finish recording, editing _and_ uploading before bedtime. 

Recording is the easy part. He only does parts that are 40 minutes max, and that’s hardly ever longer than an hour of playing. Editing is the bit that takes ages, though it’s thankfully not as time consuming as editing actual vlogs. Harry comes to sit with him after he’s done his coursework, gently shifting Bernard to the side to squeeze in between him and Louis on the couch. “How’s it going?” 

“Not too shabby,” Louis admits. He’s happy to see it’s hardly past 10pm, though he still feels groggy from waking so early with Harry the past several days. “Hopefully won’t take all night. How’re you doing?” 

“Think I might head to sleep soon,” Harry says, yawning as if on cue. He blinks himself awake when Louis looks over at him, smiling. 

“Yeah, you can go ahead. Doubt you’ll wake up when I come in anyway,” Louis says. “Reckon you could sleep through the end of the world, if you put your mind to it.” 

“That’s my superpower,” Harry agrees. He stays for several more minutes anyway, just watching Louis play back his recording and snip out the long seconds of silence when he’d look something up on his phone, or the embarrassing series of minutes where he completely forgot what he was doing in-game. It doesn’t take him long to get bored, however, suppressing another yawn before he stands, “Alright, I’m off. Goodnight.” 

“Night, Hazza,” Louis says, watching him go. 

Unsurprisingly, it takes him forever to finish the video and get it posted. He gets distracted with his Twitter feed, as he is wont to do, replying to a few tweets which turns into a spontaneous Q&A. He cuts it short after nearly an hour to finish editing, and has to wait almost that long for the thing to even upload. The Let’s Plays usually go up on Saturdays, but it’s well after midnight into Sunday by the time the link goes live. 

As expected, Harry is dead asleep when he sneaks into his bedroom. He undresses in the dark and decides to take after Harry, stripping down to his pants to sleep, too tired to bother with finding some suitable pyjamas. Harry doesn’t stir when he climbs in bed, facing away from him; Louis gets comfortable, still a bit quietly excited when stretches of his bare skin find Harry’s. He drags the back of his fingers up Harry’s spine and down again, over and over, until he gathers the courage to slide his entire arm around Harry’s waist. 

This time, Harry wakes. He breathes out a deep sigh and turns his head back toward Louis, mumbling, “Hi.” 

“Hi,” Louis murmurs back, fond and nervous in equal measure. He rests his hand flat on Harry’s belly, almost surprised by how firm the muscles there are. “This alright?” 

“Mm, yeah,” Harry sighs, facing forward again. “Goodnight.” 

“Night,” Louis says, huffing out a little laugh. 

He stays awake for an unnecessarily long time, counting all of Harry’s breaths that he can feel under his hand. 

 

_**Day 7** _

He wakes up alone in the morning, sprawled diagonally across the entire bed. 

There are noises coming from elsewhere in the flat, so he knows Harry is still here; blearily, he gropes around the nightstand for his phone before remembering that he left it in the living room last night. His alarm clock says it’s only 9am, but he needs a wee badly enough that he forces himself out of bed anyway. 

Once he’s traveled back to his room to get dressed, he goes to search for Harry and finds him bent over the washing machine, pulling out wads of wet clothing. “You doing my laundry?” 

Harry nearly drops the armful he’d gathered, spinning around fast. “Jesus, you scared me. I’m doing mine and yours,” he says, relaxing once the minor shock has worn off. “Still married for the day, figured I’d spoil my husband a bit.” 

“I should be recording this, showing you off,” Louis says. He comes in to help, separating out the clothes that can be machine dried from those that can’t. “How long have you been up?” 

“Just an hour or so. I already had breakfast, but I can make you something if you like,” he offers. 

“You don’t have to do that. I’ve got cereal and shit,” Louis says. “You’re too nice to me.” 

“I could be nicer.” 

“Really don’t think you could, I’d be dead. Diabetes. Too sweet,” Louis teases. He grins when he notices the pink flush to Harry’s cheeks. 

-

The day passes much like yesterday, with both of them working on their separate projects. Harry curls up between Louis and Bernard the bear like he had the night before, editing the most minute details on the photos he’s taken over the week. There are photos that Louis hasn’t seen before, one of him washing dishes at the kitchen sink and one of him driving, so intent on road that he didn’t notice Harry’s camera. 

Louis tries to keep himself focused, switching back and forth between replying to comments on his Let’s Play, editing more footage for the marriage challenge and sneaking peeks at Harry’s photos, but his eyes keep drooping the longer he works. 

An early lunch and several hours later—spent half watching telly and half attempting to work—Harry gently plucks the laptop from Louis’ hands and says, “You need to go have a nap.” 

Louis tries not to look as though he was only partially conscious. “Come on. I don’t have that much left to do,” he says, which he knows is a lie before he’s even spoken it. More honestly, he says, “Feel like it’s rude to leave you by yourself in our last hours of marriage.” 

“I won’t be offended,” Harry laughs. “I need my privacy anyway, I’ve still got to do my—confessional, or whatever you’ll call it. Don’t want you breathing over my shoulder while I’m filming, do I?” 

“Fuck off,” Louis smiles, more affectionate than anything else. His yawn gives him away; he doesn’t attempt to take his laptop back, just tips his head forward and sighs, “Yeah, alright. Wake me up in a bit though, yeah? Couple hours, at most.” 

“I will, go on,” Harry insists, shooing him away. 

Louis is asleep mere moments after he climbs into bed, blankets pulled up over his eyes to block out the last of the sunlight. 

-

He wakes to Harry’s fingers carding through his hair, pushing his fringe away from his forehead. “Hey, Lou.” 

Louis just hums at first, keeping his eyes closed to enjoy the feeling. “Hey,” he mumbles after a moment. 

“Wanna get up? I’ve got dinner,” Harry tells him, voice soft. 

The mention of dinner makes a sharp hunger come alive in his belly and he nods. “Yeah, shit, m’hungry. Gimme a minute?” 

“Take your time,” Harry says, standing slowly. Playful, he adds, “I’ll turn your light on so you don’t fall back asleep,” and does just that on his way out. 

Louis buries his face in his pillow until his eyes can adjust, sucking in a few deep breaths, still feeling the phantom drag of Harry’s fingertips against his scalp. 

He’s slow about making his way into the kitchen, letting himself wake up first. His eyes feel a bit gritty, not ready to be open quite yet, and he spends half the steps it takes to get there with them still closed. 

Once he finally opens them, he’s surprised to see that all the lights in the kitchen are off. There’s no food on the counters from what he can tell, but whatever Harry’s made smells delicious—he heads for the dining room instead, a bit wary of the dim glow coming from the room that he can see around the corner. 

He’s shocked into stillness when he steps inside. Harry has set up his scraggly dining table for a proper romantic meal, tablecloth and all; the only lights in the room are candles arranged in a strategic fashion, covering most empty spots on the table and stacked on the windowsill and the bookshelf. Harry’s got a vaseful of fresh-looking, colorful flowers set in the center of the table and two plates of food already prepared. He’s just finished pouring a glass of wine when he notices Louis, setting the bottle on the table. 

“Hi,” he says, chewing his lip. “I made you dinner.” 

The only thing Louis can think to say that won’t embarrass himself is, “You did all this while I was sleeping?” 

“I wanted to do something nice,” Harry mumbles, taking the few steps to stand next to Louis and check out the job he’s done. “Like—I know I said yesterday’s was our last date, but I wanted another one. I made a pasta.” 

Louis looks at him then, taking one step closer. “It looks really good,” he says, letting his eyes scan the room again. “I’m… I actually can’t believe you did all this.” 

“You can think of it like a thank you, I guess,” Harry says, shifting on his feet. He doesn’t step away from Louis, bumping into him when he moves. “Just thought it’d be… I dunno. A good last night together.” 

That phrase, _last night together_ , hits Louis harder than he could’ve expected. Logically he’s known all along that they both planned on Harry moving back into his own flat after the week was up—there’s no reason why he wouldn’t, the challenge only lasts a week—but he suddenly and fiercely doesn’t want that to happen yet. 

“It doesn’t have to be the last one,” Louis says, heart pounding loud in his ears. 

Harry faces him then, blatantly nervous. _Kiss me_ , Louis thinks. “No?” is all Harry says. 

“No,” Louis repeats. He knows, right then, that he has a chance to pick up the thread that he cut four years ago and see how things could be if he’d chosen differently. He doesn’t intend to let it go. 

Harry stays perfectly still when Louis steps in front of him. He lifts his hand to Harry’s cheek and just takes a moment to look at him, reminded by the stubble under his palm and how small he feels compared to before that Harry isn’t the teenager he knew, anymore. There are full years of his life that Louis has missed, and years of his own with a gap where Harry should’ve been. It’s easy to move in closer when the other option is to walk away and keep that gap. 

The first seconds of the kiss are chaste and shaky, Louis’ fingers trembling with nerves against Harry’s jaw. It reminds him of the kiss he gave Harry in the park after their wedding ceremony, just a friendly little thing then, but neither of them are laughing now. Harry is the one to take it further, surging forward suddenly as though his mind just caught up with his mouth. Both of his hands move to touch Louis, one at the back of his head and one on his waist; Louis matches his urgency, tilting his head and opening the kiss up into something deeper. 

Louis doesn’t have time to think; all he can focus on is the way Harry steps even closer to press their bodies together and how easily their mouths move in sync. There’s nothing awkward about it, which is what he’s come to expect from first kisses—it’s overwhelming. He doesn’t want it to end. 

Harry is the one to stop it, though he seems reluctant. He grips Louis’ chin between his fingers to keep him from following when he pulls back, resting his forehead against Louis’ while he takes in a deep breath. “I, um—I’ve got the camera recording us,” Harry admits. 

It takes a second for his words to register. “What?” 

“I wanted to get your reaction for the challenge video,” Harry says, almost sheepish. 

Louis blinks at him and stares at his lips for a second, letting out an incredulous laugh. “Jesus. Where is it?” he asks, turning his head to look around, squinting into the candlelight. 

“Between two candles on the bookshelf, middle row,” Harry mumbles, gently turning Louis’ head in the right direction. He leaves a light kiss on the corner of Louis’ eye, which makes him smile. 

“Well. Guess everyone’ll know how excited I get about a good pasta dish for dinner,” Louis says, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist. Harry laughs and turns Louis’ head again, pressing his smile against Louis’ mouth. 

-

Dinner is amazing. 

By the time they manage to stop exchanging brief, giddy kisses, their pasta is hardly warm. Harry reheats the plates and presents Louis’ to him with a flourish, topping off his wine glass. They decide to leave the camera running while they eat to get a few more bits of footage for the video, joking all the while about how much they’ll have to cut out of the final product. 

The candles are cheap (bought in bulk at the store around the corner mere hours ago) and melt down incredibly quick, leaving little puddles of wax on Louis’ table and bookshelf by the time they’ve finished their meal. Harry goes about blowing them all out, slowly sending them into darkness; Louis turns on the dining room light so they can make their way around and grabs the camera, finally ending the absurdly long clip. 

Feeling thrilled and nervous and pleasantly full, Louis glances around the room and isn’t even slightly motivated to clean up the mess. “Do we want to do dishes right now?” he asks, making an uninterested face when Harry looks at him. 

“Nope,” Harry says. He blows out the last several candles and makes his way over to Louis, draping both arms over his shoulders. “I want to kiss you right now, instead.” 

Louis’ belly swoops a bit in anticipation. “I dunno. I have so much work to do…” he says, lifting the camera to demonstrate, playing coy. 

“Oh, I can kiss you while you work, I don’t mind,” Harry murmurs, dipping his head down to touch his nose to Louis’. “I’ll be very quiet. Won’t bother you a bit.” 

“See to it that you don’t,” Louis says, soft. He lets his lips brush against Harry’s, heart beating fast again when he gets a tiny kiss in return. Quietly, he mumbles, “Might as well head to bed, then. You know it’s my favorite spot to work.” 

“Might as well,” Harry agrees. He pulls both of his hands back to cup Louis’ face and gives him one more lingering kiss before stepping away, biting his lip to hold back a smile. 

Louis holds the camera in one hand and Harry’s fingers in the other on the way back to his bedroom, jittery in his favorite kind of way. It’s almost like he’s dreaming—like he hasn’t quite woken up from his nap yet. He sets the camera on top of his computer on the nightstand and sits at the edge of his bed to look up at Harry, still gripping his fingers when he jokes, “This is a much more dramatic end to a week of marriage than I expected, honestly.” 

“I think it’s produced some excellent results, myself,” Harry says, ruffling Louis’ hair with his free hand. “Been a good bonding exercise.” 

“It’ll be a nice story for the grandkids, won’t it. _First we pretended to get married, then remembered we actually quite liked each other_ ,” Louis teases. 

Harry laughs and lets go of his hand to climb in bed behind him. “I can tell you that my past self is bricking it right now. I got… how many dates with you? Four? _And_ a kiss? Sick.” 

“Sick,” Louis agrees with a grin. He leans into Harry’s side, both of them half slumped against the headboard. Though he makes no effort to start working, he says, “Charming as you are, I really should edit more tonight.” 

“You can edit! I was being serious. I can just…” Harry trails off, leaning in to kiss the side of his neck. “Don’t need to kiss your mouth to entertain myself.” 

A shiver runs through Louis at that kiss. “That—would be incredibly distracting,” he says. 

Harry whispers, “Nah, I think you can handle it,” leaving a slow line of kisses down the tendon in Louis’ neck. 

It’s so different than he remembers. Harry used to be shier, blushing and flustered more often than not when Louis would lavish him with attention; he never turned it around on Louis, which makes sense in hindsight. While Louis took things as far as his conscience would allow, rarely allowing himself to kiss Harry’s cheek or his neck or his jaw, Harry never took the same in return. 

Now, though—without a third player around the corner, reminding them both of how far they’re allowed to go—Harry isn’t very shy at all. He rests a hand on Louis’ chest and slowly inches closer, sucking little kisses that grow increasingly sensual down to his shoulder and back up again. Louis gets breathless quickly. He tips his head to the side to give Harry more room to work with and squeezes his thigh, fingertips pressed to the inseam of his trousers. 

Harry’s lips against his skin consume so much of his focus that Louis only notices his hand has been sliding lower when Harry’s fingertips touch his bare hip, underneath his top. He gasps then, working to keep himself quiet and in control, but he can’t stop himself from squirming after Harry drags his knuckles along the zip of his jeans. 

It’s over more quickly than Louis would like to admit. Once Harry gives his cock a proper squeeze, Louis climbs halfway into his lap and pulls him into a kiss, messy and deep. They don’t even manage to get undressed; Louis distractedly kneads Harry’s cock through his trousers while Harry wanks him off, and they both come all over their clothes like a pair of teenagers. It doesn’t feel big or dramatic—it feels like a quick release of the tension they never got to resolve. An inevitability. 

“And I’ve _just_ finished our laundry,” Harry mumbles between kisses after they’ve both caught their breath back, looking down between them at the come streaking his top, a few drops spattered on the crotch of his trousers. 

Louis laughs until Harry kisses him again just to shut him up. 

-

Once they’ve cleaned themselves up (and spent several long minutes snogging by the laundry basket, flushed and naked), Louis is firm about needing to edit. 

“I want to upload it by tomorrow! I’ve only done one video on time this week,” he says while he pulls on a pair of briefs, to at least put a barrier between his cock and any wandering hands. 

“I can help you,” Harry offers. As expected, he doesn’t bother with clothes. He settles back in bed and slaps the spot next to him in invitation, pulling the blankets back for Louis. “I wanna see all the footage, as well.” 

“Did you even film that confessional video you wanted to do?” 

“I did! It’s in there. Before the whole dinner thing, obviously,” Harry says. He leans into Louis’ side when he gets in bed with his laptop. “It’s, um—I think you should probably be able to use some bits for the video. I got sort of distracted talking in it.” 

“That’s alright,” Louis says. He uploads all the new video clips to his computer and clicks on the thumbnail of Harry by himself, asking, “Are you gonna be embarrassed if I watch it now?” 

“No, go on. Well—maybe, but you can.” 

Louis rests his hand on Harry’s knee over the blanket for a bit of reassurance and hits play, strangely nervous. Harry set up the camera in a great position when he recorded his video, natural light from Louis’ living room window streaming in to illuminate him. He coughs into his fist and fidgets with his hair, pushing it out of his eyes before he begins. 

“Hi, Louis. Um—you can cut this bit out when you’re editing. Or whatever bits you don’t want me sharing with people. Sorry. So… Louis and I have basically finished out the week already. When he first asked me to do the whole challenge, I honestly didn’t think much about it. We’ve done a couple videos together and logistically there was really no one else for him to ask, and I know he really likes to give you guys the videos you ask for, so… I said yes. It was basically just for a bit of fun. 

“I have to say, though, like… I think he and I have an advantage over other people who’ve done the challenge? We’ve already lived together and it was for a lot longer than a week, and—it went really well. Like, really well for the most part, I think. Most big things about him haven’t changed much, so I still remember things he likes and know some of the things that make him happy, so. I don’t know how many other people doing the challenge have that history. So it might be unfair, I dunno.

“Besides that, I just think the week’s gone really well. It hasn’t been hard at all trying to behave like a married couple might, really. We’ve both done quite well on choosing our dates and Louis—um, Louis’ been really lovely. The only thing I noticed is that we both just sort of completely forgot about everyone else. Neither of us even bothered to try and go out and see our other friends, we just spent all our time together. Which I suppose you might have to count as a negative? But it’s been nice. Not a very bad negative, to me. 

“But… yeah. It’s been really good. Yesterday especially was nice because we, like—we got to talk about something we needed closure on, and it felt good to get it out in the open. Um… I know you probably won’t want to put that in, actually, sorry. I’m glad we talked about it, though. I really needed it, and I think—I think it’ll help us. Think we can be better friends for each other, now. 

“God, okay. I think I’ll go ahead and end it here. You’ll have already seen it by now, but I’ve got a sort of surprised planned, so—alright,” Harry says, and reaches toward the screen to end the video. 

Louis looks over at the physical Harry sitting beside him, a little pink but still confident, watching him right back. “That was sweet,” he murmurs. Meandering and only full of a few useful clips for the vlog, but perfectly Harry. 

“I was trying to be honest,” Harry says, feeling over the back of Louis’ hand. “Which was weird to do, pretending m’talking to loads of people. Suppose that’s why I kept accidentally talking, like—just to you.” 

“I liked it better when you were talking just to me,” Louis admits. He catches Harry’s fingers in his own and gives in to the urge to lean in and kiss him, since it’s something he can do now without fearing what might happen. Against his lips, he mumbles, “Think we’ll be excellent _friends_ , now, you’re right.” 

Harry smiles at that, pulling back to look at him. “I didn’t know all _this_ was going to happen! I was being realistic. Figured at least we could stop pretending nothing weird ever happened.” 

“Now we’ll be better friends and a little something extra,” Louis teases, linking their fingers together where they rest on Harry’s thigh. “Gonna have to get you in more of my videos, now.” 

Harry’s quiet for just a beat longer than usual, tapping his fingers against Louis’ knuckles. “Could do. Maybe get me in a boyfriend tag video or summat.” 

“Boyfriend, eh? Bit of a downgrade, innit? Husband to boyfriend,” Louis says. Just the idea fills his belly with butterflies, happy little things. 

“Could just put our divorce on hold,” Harry offers. “Think I’ve taken you on enough dates to warrant that by now. We should be celebrating our one-week, not divorcing.” 

Louis agrees, “You’re absolutely right,” and leans in to kiss him again, lips curved into a smile.


End file.
